


Nothing Goes Wrong

by OneSaltyErik



Series: Nothing Goes Wrong [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Technoblade - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Execution, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Hearing Voices, HeavilyImpliedPsychosisSymptoms, Hostage Situations, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Impalement, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, NO DEATH, No shipping, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Care, Some Canon Divergance, Swordfighting, Threats of Violence, Violence, Whump, no one dies, some headcanons, technoblade whump, these are just the characters and not the actual people who play them don't @ me, they are brothers your honour, wound treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSaltyErik/pseuds/OneSaltyErik
Summary: He was supposed to be in retirement. The Butcher Party had other ideas. And Technoblade never dies.A retelling of the events of the stream "Nothing Goes Wrong".
Series: Nothing Goes Wrong [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090898
Comments: 93
Kudos: 396





	1. “The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

That was a low blow, threatening his horse. 

Techno sighed, shivering slightly in the cold, arctic wind blowing off the crests of the waves that rocked his captor’s longship. 

_ Shouldn’t have dropped the fucking cloak. _ He berated himself. But, he had panicked. 

The second he had seen the silver of Quackity’s blade pressed against the side of Carl’s neck, his world had spun inwards on itself. 

_ Not Carl! _ He’d screamed. Not his horse, his only friend, the only creature he’d ever managed to forge any meaningful bond with. The only being who had never stabbed him in the back, never betrayed him, never hurt him, never cast him out. 

Sweet, gentle, patient old Carl. 

It was so stupid! Surrendering over the life of a horse. Fuck, he could just get another horse! Except he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. 

Carl was a part of his family. 

And so, he’d thrown everything down at the threat. Gods he’d sounded so pathetic, the way his voice had almost broken as he pleaded for Quackity to drop the blade, throwing his own to the ground. 

He complied so readily to the man’s demands, relinquishing his swords, his armour, his potions, his supplies, even his cloak. 

And now, here he was. Shivering in a karvi with his old friends, now his enemies. 

Carl, the one thing keeping him from trying to fight any further, and that stupid blue sheep Wilbur had found, had been placed by the stern, watched over by the obliviously useless ghost of his brother. 

Quackity, that bastard, stood at the bow, a map and an all too familiar compass in hand.

_ Phil… _ Techno shook his head. He’d worry about Phil later. The man was smart enough to handle himself. He had managed to send him a warning after all…

_ Should have destroyed the lodestone. _

He let his eyes wander about the small ship. Ahead of him, rowing, were Tubbo and Fundy. Both looking more than a little weary from the day’s events. 

Beside him, however, nursing a bleeding shoulder, was someone he hadn’t seen before. 

A strange young man, his skin snow white on one side and a dark grey on the other, the two colours melding together in the centre of his face with a dapple blending. His wind whipped hair followed the same pattern of his skin. He reminded Techno of someone, somehow. 

He studied the red and green eyes of the piebald youth. He seemed out of place here amongst the Butcher Party. The rest he knew all had some quarrel with him but what was this newcomer here for? 

The young man gave him a confused look, no doubt growing wary from the glaring way he was being stared at, before returning to tending his shoulder wound. 

“You should be honoured.” Techno grinned, his tusks flashing. “I could've killed you, you know.” 

“So I’ve heard.” The young man nodded, cinching a bandage across his wound, his tufted tail curling as he hissed in pain. 

“You didn’t sterilise it.” Techno pointed out. “I don’t know how many zombies I’ve killed with that sword you know.” 

He remembered the startled scream that had come from the young man as he had pierced through his armour. He grinned at the memory, the youth had merely grit his teeth and swung right back at him. He could respect that. 

“Oh….” the piebald man frowned, proceeding to undo the bandage. 

“Mind shutting up for five minutes?” 

Techno flattened his ears at the voice, turning to see Quackity at the bow, angrily gripping the map in his hands.

“Last time I try to be reasonable I guess.” Techno mumbled, leaning back against the mast of the karvi, trying to reposition his arms. They’d been bound behind his back, much tighter than they really needed to be, he could tell. His hands had already begun to go numb and he could feel the faint, sticky dripping of blood forming along the cords around his wrists. 

His captors weren’t taking any chances with him it seemed. 

“We gave you a family.” Quackity muttered angrily. “And you had the gall to betray us!” 

“You used me.” Techno countered flatly. “I made my conditions clear as day and you elected to ignore them the second it was convenient for you.” 

“You think family does that?” he kept his voice calm, knowing he had touched a few nerves with that statement. He could sense the young men around him shifting uncomfortably. 

He turned his gaze to Fundy, the fox eared man stiffened. 

“You think family only acknowledges you until it’s inconvenient-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Fundy hissed, stabbing at the water with his paddle. 

Techno chuckled. 

Behind him he heard the weak voice of Wilbur laugh as well.   
“Techno you’re laughing!” the shade giggled. “Fundy! You’re uncle’s laughing! Isn’t that nice? This is a nice little trip.” 

Techno saw Fundy’s eyes shut tight as he fought away tears of frustration before turning back to rowing, a bit more angrily than before. 

It had been so bizarre to learn that Wilbur wasn’t just one of his hallucinations, some cruel joke his mind was playing in him. He was still getting used to the idea that others could see his brother too, not just him. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or concerned, at the moment he just felt a strange sense of wonder as he imagined what it must have been like for the others to see something they previously thought impossible. 

Did they think they were seeing things at first? Or had they just accepted it? How long had that taken them? Did they now know how he felt?

_ Nice trip… _

_ Not nice.. _

_ Cold… _

_ Bad men… _

_ Ouch… _

_ Not nice… _

_ Hello Wilbur… _

_ Brother… _

_ Wilbur… _

_ Punch the ghost… _

“I’m not punching the ghost.” he mumbled under his breath. The voices giggled in response. They’d been getting louder ever since he had been captured. 

_ Taunt them… _

_ Annoying… _

_ You’re annoying… _

_ Escape… _

_ You’re annoying… _

_ Funny joke… _

Now that, he grinned, he could do.

“Nah, this trip sucks.” Techno shrugged at Wilbur’s comment, attempting to get at least one more jab at his captors before they had him gagged. “I’d give it maybe one star out of five. Worst kidnapping ever.” 

“.....come on man,” Tubbo’s quiet voice spoke up as he rowed. “Maybe at least a two star?” 

The boy grinned, timidly, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to be doing here. 

“Well, I guess cause you’re here” Techno smiled softly back. “I’ll raise it, at least, to a one point five star.” 

_ Poor kid. _ He thought.  _ Always trying to make the best of things.  _

_ Little brother… _

_ Baby… _

_ Punt the child… _

_ Child killer... _

He could almost, almost, see why his little brother had been chosen as president. He didn’t fault Tommy and Wilbur for that choice. The boy could make friends with anyone, he was always willing to lend a kind hand to any situation, traits that were a far cry from the late Schlatt. Of course people would want a leader like him after what they had gone through. 

But that was just the problem, wasn’t it. There was being kind, and then there was being a doormat. And Tubbo, sweet as he was, had been too much of a people pleaser to be much of an actual leader.

“This isn’t a fucking uber service!” Quackity snapped from his spot at the bow, angrily rolling up the map he held and storming towards where Techno was bound. “Tubbo, you’re in the Butcher Party, fucking act like it!” 

Techno leaned towards Tubbo. “You’re really gonna take orders from someone like that Mr. President?” 

Tubbo stiffened. 

“Alright either shut the fuck up right now or you’re getting gagged!” Quackity slapped the map against the side of the longboat, sending Tubbo jerking upright, pale faced, at the loud banging sound near his ear.

Techno flinched, that was mean of Quackity, had he done that on purpose?

_ Explosion…. _

_ Explode the child… _

_ Shoot the child… _

_ Ouch… _

_ Meanie…  _

_ Child hurt… _

“What’s it gonna be Mr. President?” Techno chuckled, subtly attempting to bring Tubbo out of where Quackity had sent him. He sensed the group seemingly tense around him.

He saw Tubbo shake his head with a faint whimper, rubbing the base of his horns as he returned to the present. He then set his jaw firmly, before returning to rowing. “You tried to sabotage our government.” 

Techno snarled. “Oh I tried to sabotage YOUR government huh?! Your pathetic excuse for democracy huh?! Well look where that’s fucking gotten you-” 

The sharp sting of rolled paper slapped across his face. 

He growled, his tusks gleaming wickedly as he jerked his head towards his assailant. 

Quackity rolled the map tighter in his hands, as if he were wringing the neck of some poor bird to death.

“Like I said,” the man sneered down at him. “Not, a, fucking, Uber.” 

Quackity knelt before Techno, just barely out of reach of his teeth. 

“Hell, you should be grateful,” the dark haired man laughed. “Uber won’t take animals.” 

“Hey!” Tubbo snapped.   
“What the fuck?!” Fundy jerked his oar around. 

“Dude what the hell?” the piebald man put a hand on Quackity’s shoulder, tail flicking angrily. “Don’t bring  _ that _ into this!” 

“Sorry! Shit!” Quackity immediately held his hands up in apology. 

“Hybrids aren’t animals man!” Tubbo hissed. 

“Read the room!” Fundy snarled. “You’re the only human here!”

“I know I know! Shit I’m sorry! It just slipped out ok?!” 

Techno laughed. To the man’s credit, he did seem genuinely sorry, at least for Tubbo and Fundy’s sake. Maybe the piebald boy too, he wasn’t sure what that kid was yet. 

His laugh was cut short as a thick cloth was shoved between his teeth before being tied behind his head, silencing him. 

“Sorry.” The piebald youth mumbled as he finished tying the knot behind him. 

“Finally,” Quackity sighed. “Some fucking silence!” 

He stood in front of Techno, placing the rolled up map under his chin, tilting his head to look at him. Techno continued to snarl between his gag as Quackity spoke. 

“Like I said,” the dark haired man’s voice dropped to a deadly hiss. “You sabotaged us. You’ve hurt us and our country far too many times. And you’re gonna pay for it, you hear me?” 

Techno pulled his head away from the map, still glaring. 

“You’re gonna be taken to trial, and charged for your crimes, and you’re gonna pay for them.” Techno noticed Quackity’s eyes darkening with a fury he’d never expected from the man. 

“Oh by the gods,” Quackity hissed. “You’re gonna fucking pay.” 

“He is very rich,” Ghostbur’s raspy voice commented. “I’m sure he can pay for any damages he made. Isn’t that right Technoblade? You did say you were loaded.” 

The shade smiled innocently at him. And it truly was innocent. 

Techno almost tried to smile back. 

_ Dead brother… _

_ Dead… _

_ Sweet Wilbur… _

_ Punch the ghost… _

_ Ghost… _

_ Ghostbur… _

_ Ghostbur... _

Ghostbur at least made things less lonely. Sometimes. 

“Gods dammit…” Quackity shook his head at the ghost. “That’s not...nevermind.” 


	2. “They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno reminisces about the past and debates his options as he realises he may have made an error many years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here' the calm before the coming storm. And a bit of lightheartedness.

Techno didn’t sleep that night. He tried to. If only to save his strength for when they finally arrived at their destination. 

He couldn’t though. 

There is a point between exhaustion and pain and fear that keeps one awake. A primal survival instinct from the dawn of time, meant to keep one alive and alert. Unfortunately now, it was more of a hindrance for him than a help. 

The stinging in his wrists from their bonds, the growing pain in his back and shoulders from their cramped position, the chill of the wind against his skin, the looming anxiety of what was going to happen to him, the voices stirring in the back of his mind….

_ You deserved this…. _

_ Traitor… _

_ They’re the traitors… _

_ Blow them up…. _

_ Kill them all… _

_ Kill them all… _

_ Kill them.... _

_ Kill… _

_ Kill… _

_ Kill… _

_ KILL _

Techno gasped, nearly choking on the gag in his mouth, as he felt a hand on his shoulder, quickly forcing himself to calm. 

It was the youth on watch for the night, the one with the piebald skin and eyes. 

“Sorry.” the strange man whispered, unrolling a blanket before wrapping it around Techno’s shoulders. “You looked cold.” 

Techno eyed him suspiciously, but what else was there to do? He  _ was _ cold, he couldn’t deny that. He hated accepting kindness from his captors, but he didn’t want to freeze either. 

He gave a nod of thanks before leaning his head back against the mast, staring up at the flickering stars in the blackened, arctic sky. Off in the distance, back from where they had taken him, he could see the faint greenish flicker of the borealis dancing. 

He missed it already. 

The strange youth sat down beside him. 

“I’m Ranboo by the way.” the young man stated cautiously, quiet enough to keep from waking the rest of the party. 

Techno raised an eyebrow towards him. 

_ Really? You capture me and then try to be my friend? _

“Not that it matters now, I guess.” Ranboo hugged his knees to chest, his tufted tail lightly thumping against the floorboards of the karvi. “Gods what the fuck am I doing out here?” 

Techno groaned, rolling his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, he didn’t want this kid’s sob story that seemed to be on the verge of spilling out. 

The kid sighed. “Sorry.” 

_ Oh just shut up and let me sleep! _

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t think it would go down like this.” 

Techno glared at Ranboo. How did he think it was going to go?! 

“I thought we were gonna try to reason with you, you know?” Ranboo curled his tail around his ankles, resting his head on his knees. “Talk things out diplomatically and stuff, see both sides of the story. I mean, I get why Quackity and Fundy are mad. Not quite sure about Tubbo…” 

He trailed off before looking back at Techno. 

“I joined them cause I didn’t know anything about you. But….after seeing your efforts to change...I dunno.” 

Techno sighed. At least this Ranboo wasn’t going to be completely against him. Maybe he could be an ally? If only temporary? 

_ Kill them all… _

_ Kill them all… _

_ Kill them all… _

A strange noise emitted from Ranboo’s throat and Techno’s head whipped around to stare at the youth, startled. 

_ That was the sound of an Enderman! _ Or were the voices just creating new ways to annoy him?

Ranboo flinched. “Sorry, I uh, I do that sometimes! Reflex!” 

_ So that sound was real _ _then._

Something tugged at the back of Techno’s mind. Something familiar. He knew there was something about this kid, something important, but every time he tried to remember, the memory would instantly fade. 

“I know, it’s scary for some people.” Ranboo’s pointed ears drooped. “I swear, I’m not gonna go on a murderous rampage from being looked in the eye.” 

Techno flicked his own ears, curiously. He was intrigued now. 

Ranboo seemed to take the hint. 

“I’m, uh, oh boy.” he chuckled. “Well, I’m half Enderman half uh, something else? I guess?” 

“And all moron.” he added with a grin. “And no, I don’t know how that pairing happened or where my parents are, I’m just a weird mixture of creepy long legged alien monster thing and some other unknown being.” 

Techno shrugged, he had to admit that while Ranboo was certainly one of the odder hybrids he had seen, he wasn’t surprised someone like him existed. People here could sometimes be very ballsy with who they chose to partner with. 

He was one of them, he remembered. If only to one up Wilbur with his fish lady wife, he had managed somehow, against all odds, some many years ago, to have a one night fling with….

_ Oh no….. _

His head snapped back around to eye the piebald young man. 

The ears, the way he held himself, the same airy monotone voice, the same tilt of his head, the way he took in his surroundings….the way he had fought. 

“Uh, Mr. Blade?” Ranboo’s brow raised in confusion. 

If Techno could smack himself in the face, he would have. As it was, he could only repeatedly bash his head in frustration against the mast at his own blindness. 

“Hey whoa hold on!” He felt Ranboo’s hands pry him away from the mast, steadying him. “Are you good?” 

Techno glared at him. 

His own damned, mistake stared back, confused. 

His own damned, bastard son, had tried to kill him earlier that day. 

The voices in his head were a mixture of screams and laughter at his realisation.


	3. “People don't help much.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get a bit graphic. Techno wonders what to do but won't give anyone an easy time of it. Ranboo is clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, Techno's voices, as well as thoughts, are depicted in Italics. As indicated in the previous chapter, he doesn't fully trust everything he sees or hears, that will come into play much later.

“Up!” 

Techno winced as he felt Quackity grab a handful of his hair, wrenching him to his feet before shoving him off the longship. He stumbled, falling into the shallow water of the beach, choking as the gag soaked up the salty fluid into his mouth. 

“I said up!” 

He felt hands on his shoulders, dragging him to his feet. The cramped muscles in his legs and back screamed in protest from the movement as he was dragged, stumbling up the beach before being roughly tossed back to the ground as his captors left him to unload the rest of the boat. 

He lay there, coughing reflexively, shaking as the sudden cold of the sea began to soak through his clothes. He’d barely managed to nod off just as dawn had crested the horizon, before the boat had landed not more than a few minutes ago. 

He was so tired. Gods he was so tired. 

His wrists stung, his limbs ached. He felt as though his very bones were being bitten with the painfully numbing chill of the sea and wind. 

He had no time to be tired. No time for pain. 

Techno forced himself to sit up, wincing at the movement, and tried to think. 

He watched as the Butcher Party began to unload their spoils. 

Ranboo, with his injured shoulder, had been assigned to watch Techno. The lanky, half Enderman paced nervously beside him, tail twitching with each step. No doubt still processing his allegiances as he had hinted last night. 

There was no way in hell Techno was going to tell him about his own realisations.

Tubbo and Fundy took turns packing supplies onto Carl before helping Quackity haul the longboat the rest of the way onto shore. 

Wilbur’s shade floated just ahead of the stupid blue sheep, smiling as he patted its ears. 

Techno wondered if Wilbur still possessed the ability to process the situation he was in. If he was lucky, and was able to get the gag out of his mouth, perhaps he could ask him to help him escape? 

_ He betrayed you… _

_ Hi Techno.... _

_ Pointed you out… _

_ Betrayed your location… _

_ You wouldn’t have been found… _

_ He intervened… _

_ Traitor… _

_ Helped them… _

Techno heaved a sigh of frustration. The voices were right, he hated to admit. Wilbur could no longer grasp the concept of complicated situations. If he was told something or someone was bad, he believed it. He would be confused, he  _ had _ been confused that anyone would want to hurt his brother, but he had also been confused that his brother had hurt others. Supposedly. 

Well, not even supposedly, Techno  _ had _ hurt people. But, while he had always made it clear that he would repay kindness with kindness and violence with defence, no one else seemed to grasp that concept. Let alone poor Wilbur. 

_ Afterlife sucks… _

_ Ghostblade… _

_ Ghostblade… _

_ Stupid Ghostbur…. _

_ Don’t call him that! _ He snapped at the voices. 

They quieted in response, still whispering indistinctly in the back of his mind. 

Finally the Butcher Party seemed to have settled on their plans. Techno stiffened, flattening his ears as Quackity neared, astride Carl. 

_ How DARE he! _

“Ranboo,” Quackity nodded to the man. “Go ahead and take the gag off, I want to ask him some questions.” 

“If,” he turned his head towards Techno, “He’ll behave.” 

Ranboo complied, only to jump back, startled, as Techno snapped his teeth towards him, grinning wickedly. 

“Rude.” Quackity chided. 

“Now, Techno.” 

Techno narrowed his eyes at the man. “What?” 

He was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. 

“We’re officially back on L’Manburg’s soil now.” Quackity began. “As a convict of L’Manburg, anything you say can and will be used against you.” 

“With that said,” he gave Carl a pat. “Is there anything you wish to say, officially, before we take you to trial?” 

“Yeah.” Techno stated flatly. “Get off my horse.” 

Quackity sighed. “Put the gag back on him Ranboo.” 


	4. “We did everything adults would do. What went wrong?” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno wonders just what is wrong with the Butcher Party as they arrive at New L'Manburg.

While Techno was grateful to be able to stretch his legs finally, he still couldn’t help but hiss with each misstep he took that jogged the ache in his back and shoulders. His hands were now completely numb. 

That was bad. 

He knew he could still wiggle his fingers, sort of, but the sensation of movement and touch from his elbows down was little more than a dull, throbbing ache and cold numbness. 

That was going to be a problem if he wanted to escape. 

The growing pain in his chest was also going to be an issue. 

He sighed, then coughed as the deep breath caught within his lungs. He felt something hot and metallic begin to soak the gag. 

_ ….shit…. _

Pneumonia? He wasn’t surprised at this point. He had just spent the entire night shivering in the cold, and now he was trudging through the rain after having inhaled seawater that morning. He was still cold. Probably worse so now, the rain was plastering his clothes to his skin, sending a sharp chill through his core with each light breeze that fluttered by. 

He was bound to have some sort of illness from the sheer amount of exposure he’d been subjected to, let alone the seawater in his lungs. 

And with four, maybe three, well armed men guarding him, his chances of escape were becoming slim. 

“Are we going back to L’Manburg?” he heard Wilbur’s voice beside him. 

The shade had materialised his hands just enough to hold a lead in one and a thick coat in the other, huddling under it to avoid the rain. He was smiling, staring up at the horizon before them. 

Techno noticed where the droplets of water splashed onto Wil’s exposed fingers, there was a hint of steam and a hiss. Was he...was he melting? From the rain? 

Or was that just his mind being annoying again?

The blue sheep at the end of the lead gave a confused bleat. Wilbur giggled at the noise. 

“Isn’t this nice Technoblade?” he laughed. “You’re no longer banned from L’Manburg! You can come home!” 

Techno sighed. Wilbur was so, so different now to the man he had been. On one hand, it was nice to see him smiling for once. On the other….

“He’s not going home, Ghostbur.” Fundy muttered behind the shade.

Techno noted the sharp tone in the fox hybrid’s voice, and the use of Ghostbur instead of Wil. Or Dad.

He couldn’t blame him. But it still hurt. 

Since when had their family gotten so fucked up? 

“He’s not?” Wilbur tilted his head, confused. 

“We’re only taking him back to L’Manburg so he can stand trial.” Fundy strode on ahead, not bothering to look at the shade of his father. 

“Oh,” Wil’s shoulders seemed to sag a bit, before he smiled once more. “Well a short trip isn’t so bad.” 

“Hey Techno!” He whispered. “Maybe we can see Phil again when we’re done with the trial! You know, have a little family reunion!” 

_ I don’t think that’s what’s gonna happen. _

Techno glanced ahead, Quackity was still astride Carl, leading the group. Beside him, reaching up to pat the horse’s neck, was Tubbo, staring blankly at the ground. Occasionally rubbing a hand over his horns. Or the massive burn scar that covered half his face and neck. 

And extended the length of his entire body, Techno knew. 

He knew too well. 

_ Do you regret… _

_ Shame… _

_ Child killer… _

_ Kill the child… _

_ Kill the orphan… _

_ Burn… _

_ Tubbo is a traitor… _

_ Tommy’s friend… _

_ Little brother…. _

_ Baby brother…. _

_ Good friend… _

_ Hurt the child… _

He didn’t know what to think of his actions. On one hand, he regretted the initial wounding he had given the boy, on the day of the Red Festival. That hadn’t been his intent. Gods it hadn’t been! 

But he was outnumbered. One wrong move and he would be killed himself. And he couldn’t have let himself die, not if he was going to assist in the revolution in any meaningful way. 

But the second time, during Tubbo’s election speech….that was uncalled for, he decided. 

It was done in the heat of the moment. The pain and anger he had felt as his own brothers betrayed him before his very eyes, he didn’t need to take it out on Tubbo. Hell, the boy hadn’t even run for the position, he was put on the spot. What else was he to do but accept the position being put on him? 

Gods there was so much wrong with that. The whole country of L’Manburg was a wreck. Run by children, actual children! Who had no idea what they were doing! They wanted a leader, they needed someone to look up to, he could understand that. But Tubbo wasn’t their father. He was a child, same as the rest of them. Little more than sixteen and everyone had expected him to lead after the downfall of Schlatt. And like the child he was, being pressured by his peers, he just accepted the role. 

_ Doormat… _

_ Doormat… _

_ Look what kindness gets you… _

_ Weak… _

_ Doormat… _

L’Manburg didn’t need a president, it needed family. It needed brothers and sisters to protect and guide, and parents to love and lead. Not some idiot in a suit making laws and tax reforms and regulations that only made people argue and fight amongst one another. 

L’Manburg needed to be a community. Not a country. 

Why couldn’t anyone understand? 

Techno heard a distressed  _ mrrup! _ from beside him. He saw Ranboo curl his tail up into his cloak, out of the rain. The piebald man noticed his concern and flashed him a quick smile. 

“Rain stings.” the youth explained. “I’m ok, it’s not too bad.” 

“Quit talking to the prisoner Ranboo!” Quackity snapped from up ahead. 

“Sorry.” the youth grimaced, his ears drooping before giving an apologetic look to Techno. 

Techno shrugged. 

Gods what the hell was he going to do that kid?! 

_ Mistake…. _

_ Mistake… _

_ You fucked up…. _

_ Baby…. _

_ The Mistake is confusing… _

_ Don’t trust the Mistake… _

_ Kick the child and run…. _

A mistake indeed. Techno wasn’t a father. This kid wasn’t his problem. These children weren’t his problem. It wasn’t his fault they were so fucked up. 

Still, there was a stupid, nagging feeling of guilt for them clawing at the back of his mind. They at least needed someone, anyone at this point, to be a leader. Not a president, hell, never a president! But someone they could call on for help, someone to look up to, someone who could care for them. 

He knew they cared for each other like brothers, he’d been a brother long enough to recognise that form of familial bond, however estranged he had been from it. 

So why couldn’t they ever seem to work things out? 

He felt Ranboo’s clawed hand on his shoulder, stopping him from walking blindly into Carl’s rear. 

_ Whoops…. _

_ Zoned out… _

_ Sorry Carl… _

_ Horse… _

_ Fluffy boy… _

_ Love the big man…. _

“Well, take a good look, pig!” Quackity hissed, gesturing to the scene before them. 

L’Manburg, re-built within the crater of its broken foundations, stood at the bottom of the forested hill they had just left, stark against the now reddish sunset. It was darker than Techno had remembered, despite the watchfires and lanterns about the walls and streets. The flames offered less of a light and more of a dying, flickering glow to the place, casting more shadows than chasing them off. Rain drops glistened against the rooftops and pavement, tiny embers lit up by the red of the watchfires. The lake of water the small city rose up from at the bottom of the crater, glittered darkly, like hardening magma.

The irony of the scene was not lost on him. 

“Seems we’ve recovered well,” the dark haired man sneered. “Despite your interference.” 

_ Seems you’ve just made another hell. _ Techno thought to himself.


	5. “Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has to make a hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not obvious, there's a lot of Lord of the Flies symbolism going on here. (coughcoughchaptertitlesarespoilerscough)

Phil shuddered as he woke from his trance. Astral Projection had always left him dizzy and nauseous, this was no exception. He rubbed his eyes, leaning heavily against the back of his chair, waiting for the horrendous spinning of the world around him to stop. 

This was not good. 

He’d thought that after his initial questioning, things would calm down. The Butcher Party would get lost, tire themselves out, and eventually come home, like the confused children they were, after thinking about their choices. 

He had been proven wrong. 

Little more than a week ago, the Butcher Party had come back, and they weren’t taking his usual excuses anymore. While their interrogations had proved useless; he still carried the ache in his arm from that; their search throughout his house had not. 

Once they had found the lodestone compass, they had all the evidence they needed. Phil had been put under house arrest, guarded twenty four seven, his ankle shackled to the main support beam of his home with an excessively long chain. 

_ They didn’t need to do that, _ he groaned at the impending headache the projection spell had left him with. They’d broken his flight feathers in the interrogations, it wasn’t as though he could go anywhere until they’d grown back in. 

The dizziness finally left. The headache did not. He could deal with that. 

Phil stood, stretching his wings slightly as he made his way to the kitchen. He needed tea. After what he had witnessed, after what he knew was bound to happen in about an hour, he NEEDED tea. If he had any liquor he might have gone for that instead. 

He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen. 

He needed a distraction. 

He set the kettle on the stovetop before gathering a series of herbs from his stores. Some dried chamomile for nerves, some peppermint to settle the stomach, some willow bark for the headache and broken wrist….

He jumped as the kettle screeched. It sounded too similar to a scream. 

Phil quickly took it off the heat and added the herbs, watching them as they swirled together into the water, the dried chamomile blossoming in the heat, the willow bark turning a deep red…

He broke. 

He slumped to the floor, wings shaking as he began to sob. 

First Wilbur had...he had….and then Tommy had been exiled...and Tubbo had suffered so much…..and soon Techno would be…

“So fucking useless!” he hugged his knees to his chest with his good arm. 

He’d been forced to kill his second oldest. He’d abandoned his youngest two in favour of Techno, now Tubbo was part of the very group that wanted Techno dead and who knew where Tommy had been sent. And now Techno, his last son, his boy, was going to die. Because of his stupid, STUPID, mistake. 

Phil wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Gods why hadn’t he been there for his boys more? It had been a mistake to think they could take care of themselves so young.

No, they had taken care of themselves, he knew they were well equipped to survive in the wilderness. The wilderness, but not with people. 

He’d failed at that. He’d left them too soon.

He’d thought it might be good for them to be more independent, Techno had already fled the nest long before Phil had ever considered continuing his wanderings. But Techno thrived on introversion. The other three however, the second he had left, the boys had latched onto the closest leader they could. 

Any leader they could. 

And now… well… 

“How many more sons must I lose?!” Phil whimpered. “Gods I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” 

After a long moment, he finally managed to stifle his tears, and dragged himself back to his feet, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. He was still shaking. 

Phil swallowed back the knot that had formed in his throat and heaved a broken sigh, defeatedly pouring out the now brewed tea into a small mug. His hands were still shaking as he made his way back to the chair by the window. He held the mug to his chest, letting the warmth comfort him as he stared out across the city. 

The sun had set by now, but the sky still held a slight tinge of pink on the horizon, stark against the dark clouds that blocked out the stars. 

The air felt cold. 

He could smell rain. 

He took a sip of the tea before settling back down into the chair, tucking the mug back to his chest once more. 

He remembered he used to do the same motion when Techno couldn’t sleep. When the voices were too loud for the toddler and he’d come crying and sobbing into Phil’s arms in the middle of the night, he’d place the boy against his chest and let him ground himself to the sound of his heartbeat. 

He couldn’t imagine the terror the boy had gone through before he had been found by Phil. To be so young and so scared of something he didn’t understand but couldn’t ever escape from, how had he managed for so long? 

Every day that Techno had spent with him had been a step towards healing. Phil remembered how proud he had been when the little piglin hybrid had managed to sleep completely through the night without being woken by the voices. And when he’d managed to spend a night without him in the wilderness for the first time, alone but strong, Phil had only grown prouder. 

The fact that Techno had managed to live alone for so long without incident was phenomenal, but then again, perhaps his isolation had only made things worse. 

Phil clutched the mug tighter. He was back here again, full circle thinking, blaming himself once more for the fates of his sons. 

He was to blame though. 

If he was to point blame at anyone, it was him. 

He had been far too young to think he was ready for a family. 

_ But who else would have taken them in? _

He couldn’t handle the task, he had barely been a child himself when he had found Techno and Wil. 

_ I couldn’t just leave them! _

And to think he would take on two more foundlings! What had he done? What did he think he was doing?! 

_ They needed someone!  _

And where had he been once they had grown into their teens? Where had he been when Techno had wandered out on his own? Where had he been when his youngest three had gone through the hell of betrayal? Where had he been when Wilbur and Tommy had been exiled from the very city they worked so hard to build? Where had he been when Schlatt had forced Techno to hurt, very nearly kill, Tubbo? Where had he been when Wilbur began to break? Where had he been-

His eye caught sight of the tip of an arrow lying on the windowsill. He must have left it out when he had been recounting his stash for the crossbow above his door frame. 

Phil absentmindedly set the mug down against the window sill and picked up the arrow, testing the sharpness against his fingertip, a horrible thought clawing to the front of his mind. 

He looked out the window once more. 

Just outside was the balcony, overlooking the city square and various canals that criss crossed beneath the wooden walkways of the crater. At the centre of the square was the cage the Butcher Party had set up some time ago. 

He had always been a good shot…he would have a clear shot of the cage from the balcony....

He took a moment to swallow his tears once more as he stood, removing the crossbow from above the door frame as he steadied his nerves for what he knew he must do. 

Why must he only ever be there for his sons to kill them?


	6. “Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's fantastic Wilbur, I'm going to die."

Techno stumbled to his knees as he coughed, choking on the buildup of fluid in his lungs from the gag. That hurt. That hurt far worse than it had an hour ago. 

He felt Ranboo’s hands on his shoulders, gingerly helping him back to his feet. He made a mental note that if-  _ not if, when _ , he told himself- he escaped, he wouldn’t kill the boy. 

Ever since his realisation of the youth’s parentage, he had fallen into the habit of referring to the piebald young man as ‘boy’ whenever he thought of him. Well, he technically wasn’t wrong. Most of the citizens of L’Manburg were still boys, no matter how much they strived to ‘act like men.’ 

“Quackity,” he heard Ranboo call out beside him. “Are you sure the gag is still necessary? I mean we’re already in the city.” 

_ Quackity _ , Techno thought.  _ Quackity, is still a boy.  _

He heard up ahead a frustrated “fine” from the dark haired ‘boy’, finally no longer astride Carl, instead leading him by his reins. Only a ‘boy’ would use such backhanded tactics to defeat an opponent. Try as he might, as loud and rude and desperate to lead that he was, Quackity was no man. Not yet. 

Techno gasped as he felt the gag finally being removed, only to choke again, doubling over against Ranboo as he coughed up frothy pink fluid. His legs were beginning to shake. 

_ Damn! _ He could already feel the infection spreading within his lungs. Escape was looking less plausible by the second. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning shakily against Ranboo’s side as the boy steadied his stance. 

“You ok?” the piebald whispered. 

Techno didn’t respond, instead taking his time to gather his surroundings where he stood. 

They weren’t too far from the town square, a few more houses down maybe, if he remembered correctly. That was, if the layout of New L’Manburg was similar to the old one. 

The canals were new. The city had been built up over the crater left behind from Wilbur’s explosives, and had now been filled with the local river into a rather deep lake. It was pretty, actually. The mixture of canals and wooden bridges and roads that crossed over the lake, the houses built up on stilts and the large platforms suspended across the water for the market and stables. It was nice, actually.

Not too shabby, having been built by kids. 

Except, there was quite a lot of exposed rock wall on the higher edges of the crater. Rock wall with plenty of caves. Caves that rested on the edges of the canals. 

If he could somehow get close enough to the canals…

“Keep it moving!” Quackity shouted from up ahead. 

Techno felt Ranboo nudge him forward a bit. 

“Sorry.” the tall boy said quietly. 

Techno nodded, falling in step beside Ran- his...son….gods that was so weird!- keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Wasn’t Phil’s house near the town square? 

_ Phil… _

_ Philza… _

_ Dadza… _

_ Dad… _

_ Phil… _

_ They hurt Phil… _

_ Kill them… _

_ Hurt Phil… _

_ They hurt Phil… _

_ Philza… _

_ Oh gods!  _ Techno felt his heart race.  _ Phil! _

What had they done to Phil?! He knew his father was alive, the clear, distinct voice all those days ago that had scattered the cacophony in his head, couldn’t have been anything other than Phil. No one else was able to quiet the voices like him, he had no reason to doubt his father’s astral abilities, strange though they were. 

That voice had warned him. Phil had warned him. He told him about the Butcher Party. He told him he didn’t say anything about Techno’s whereabouts. He told him about the compass. He didn’t tell him how the compass had been found. 

Techno hissed. They’d hurt Phil, he knew they’d hurt him! 

Threatening his horse and hurting his father, how much lower could they get?! Nevermind they were mostly children, even children could be cruel, but he had never thought they would take it to this extreme! 

He never thought Tubbo would have approved of any of this, he thought as he glanced painfully at the young man ahead of him. The boy’s jaw was set firm, but his eyes looked so...so lost…

There was a different pain in Techno’s chest now, one he couldn’t quite identify. One that got worse the more he stared in shock at his little brother. 

Sweet, kind Tubbo. What had happened to him? 

_ Did I cause this? _ Techno wondered. 

The pain twisted in his chest at the thought. 

He hated feeling emotions like this.

“Techno!” 

An all too familiar voice cut through the otherwise silent night air. 

Techno whipped his head towards the source, and to his relief and horror, saw Phil. 

His father stood on the balcony of one of the houses overlooking the square, his right arm tucked against his side in a sling. There was a bruise over his left eye and, Techno’s heart dropped, his flight feathers had been snapped in half. 

It was the shackle around his father’s ankle that finally made him snap. 

“What the hell did you do to Phil!?” His voice was less of a yell and more of a desperate, wrathful scream. 

He kicked Ranboo’s knees out from under him as he heard the voices in his head screeching in rage, before bolting down the walkway towards Phil’s house. 

“Techno I’m sorry!” Phil called out. “I can’t-” 

Techno couldn’t hear him as he dove into the canal before the house, forgetting his initial resolve to escape through the caves, he just wanted Phil. He just wanted his father to be ok. 

Despite his wrists still being bound behind him he managed to swim towards the house, clambering up onto another walkway, his pink hair soaked and clinging to the sides of his face. 

Only to feel a sharp pain slash across his chest. 

He stumbled backwards, the voices continuing to shriek, as he shook his head, trying to gain his bearings. 

He froze as he felt cold metal pressing back against his wound. Quackity’s blade, already dripping with blood from the gash it had just created, was pointed towards his heart. The dark haired boy’s other hand held a crossbow, aimed at Phil. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” the boy shouted. 

“Techno, if you even think about moving,” his finger twitched over the trigger. “This bolt goes right through Phil!” 

“And you!” Quackity turned to Phil. “Try anything stupid and I run him through! You hear me?”

Techno spat, shaking his head as the voices continued to scream and claw in his mind. 

It was Phil’s voice that calmed them. 

“Techno, I’m ok.” he heard. 

Slowly, the voices began to fade as his mind started to clear once more. 

What had he been thinking? He couldn’t help Phil, not like this. Not when he could barely keep his head together, not when Phil wouldn’t even be able to fly if he did manage to free him. 

He slowly let out a breath, looking up at Quackity. 

“Don’t hurt him.” he said softly. 

“Techno please!” he heard Phil beg. “Don’t worry about me! Just run!” 

Techno turned his gaze to his father, keeping his face as neutral as possible. 

“I’ll do what you want.” he said, defeated. “Please, don’t hurt Phil.” 

He looked away as he saw tears begin to form in Phil’s eyes, the man clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling an agonising scream of loss as he crumpled to the balcony floor. 

He had never heard Phil sob before. 

He prayed it wouldn’t be the last thing he heard. 

“Move pig!” 

Techno flinched as Quackity’s blade bit into his wound once more and he quickly stepped back, obliging to be led the rest of the way towards the town square. He wished he could shut his ears against the sounds of Phil’s pleading, calling out to Tubbo, begging to let his older brother go, sobbing with the loss only a parent could understand. 

“Why is Phil crying?” 

Wilbur’s weak voice fluttered past Techno’s ears. 

“Techno?” the shade gave him a confused look as he floated up beside him. His hand still held the lead for that stupid blue sheep. 

“Why is he crying?” Wilbur asked again. “You and Tubbo and I are home now, aren’t we?” 

Techno didn’t answer, instead sighing in defeat as he saw the stage at the centre of the town square. A cage had been set up in the middle of it, the bars over the top had been sawed off. And dangling some twenty feet above the opening, held by single rope, was a large, iron anvil. 

_ Oh…. _

He would have found the execution method comedic, if only it wasn’t for him. 

“Techno!” he heard Wilbur whisper. 

He humoured the ghost, looking back at him with deadened eyes. 

Wilbur grinned, holding the lead up for the sheep as he patted its head. “I’ve named him Friend!” 

Techno smiled gently. “That’s fantastic Wilbur, I’m going to die.” 

He fell as Quackity shoved him into the cage, locking the door behind him. 


	7. “The greatest ideas are the simplest.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't stand under heavy objects that can bash your head in, mkay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where things get REALLY graphic. From here on, most chapters will have a very in depth description of violence and injuries. Proceed with caution.

Techno dragged himself back to his feet, if he was going to die without a weapon in his hand, he would at least die standing. 

The cage was smaller than he had initially thought, just wide enough to contain a sitting adult, but tall enough he couldn’t just climb out of the top. It was still a cage though, and he was still bound within its bars. 

He was still wounded too. 

The gash across his chest throbbed steadily, each heartbeat pumping out a steady flow of blood across his tunic. Now not only were his lungs aching with each breath from infection, the muscles in his chest burned as each inhale pulled the wound open ever so slightly. 

He felt dizzy. 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the bars of the cage as he heard the men...boys...argue about how to go about the execution. Not too far off, he could hear Wilbur’s raspy croons over the sheep. And Phil’s muffled sobs. 

The sun had fully set by now. 

This was taking long enough. 

He pried his eyes open, steadying himself as he wracked his mind for one last, final shot at freedom. Phil had lost enough already, the least Techno could do would be to at least try to escape, now that the immediate danger of a crossbow was no longer a threat. 

Tubbo wouldn’t let anyone kill Phil. He may have stooped low enough to let his father be beaten, but he wouldn’t allow anyone to kill him. Not immediately. 

The way Techno saw it, if he could somehow escape now, he could come back for Phil. With enough strength to keep him and his father alive. But for now, the issue was escaping. 

He gave the the town square a quick scan, it wouldn’t be easy but if he could just keep the boys arguing long enough he could possibly find a way to climb out of the cage and either take to the canals once more, or grab Carl-

_ Wait… _

Where was his horse? 

_ Shit! _ He’d lost him. Amongst the confusion and panic of earlier, he’d lost his ticket out of here. What was he supposed to do now?! 

_ Think… _

_ Carl…. _

_ No Carl…. _

_ Damn horse…. _

_ Canal… _

_ Breath the water… _

_ Drown… _

_ Drown… _

_ Choke…. _

_ Water bad…. _

_ Choke…. _

_ Chest hurts…. _

_ Pain…. _

_ Chest hurts…. _

_ Metal… _

_ Metal? _ Techno shifted slightly, what was metal? The bars?

No, it wasn’t that. What was metal-

He saw a faint glint of gold sticking out from the slashed fabric of his tunic, a familiar pendant resting against his chest. 

The voices cackled in delight! 

Techno grinned wickedly, a new plan forming in his head. 

He leaned cockishly against the bars and shouted at the boys. “What is this you’re running here? Some kangaroo court?” 

Fundy, Quackity, and Tubbo all turned towards him. Ranboo was still sitting where he had fallen some ways back on one of the walkways, hugging his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms at the sound of Phil’s sobs. 

“I’m starting to think this whole trial thing is a farce.” Techno flicked his ears.

“Actually Techno-” Tubbo began, only to be cut off by Quackity. 

“This isn’t a fucking trial,” the dark haired boy slammed his sword against the bars. “This is an execution!” 

“Oh so you lied!” Techno laughed. “What a concept! A government that lies to its people. Who’d have thought?” 

“Techno.” Tubbo cleared his throat, finally looking his older brother in the eye. “For crimes of treason, treachery, and-” 

Once more the small, horned boy was interrupted, this time as a series of pebble sized projectiles were tossed onto the stage, spitting out a cloud of smoke that blanketed the town square. 

Chaos erupted.

“Gods dammit Punz!” 

“Punz what the fuck!” 

“You bastard! Stop! Stop!”

“Who the fuck told him about the execution?!” 

The boys voices shouted out within the ever growing cloud of smoke. 

Techno was taken aback by the sudden ambush, maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to his plan after all? 

But...who was behind the-

“Just pull the fucking lever!” 

He didn’t have time to prepare for the sudden, crushing impact against the side of his face. For a second, he saw white as the world spun into a slurry of blood, bone, and pain, before finally going black. 


	8. “The rules!" shouted Ralph, "you're breaking the rules!" "Who cares?” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES! DEATH! DEATH! GIVE THEM DEATH!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey! He ain't dead!

Philza wasn’t sure what to do. One minute he was forcing himself to aim the crossbow at his son’s heart through the bars of the cage, choking on his tears as he begged for forgiveness from the gods once more. And then the next minute he was frozen in place, stunned, at the sight of the town square filling with smoke as the familiar figure of Punz leapt from a nearby balcony, scattering smoke bombs as he dove into the fray. 

There was shouting, the sounds of metal against metal, he heard Fundy scream and Tubbo yell for Punz to stop. 

His confusion was broken by the overwhelming dread of Quackity’s voice shouting an order to pull the lever of the execution device. 

In a split second, Phil had reacted. He fired the crossbow. 

But not at the cage. 

He couldn’t. 

Something within him jerked his aim upwards, instead of hitting his son, he hit the anvil that dropped from the pole above him. 

The arrow shattered.

His voice caught in his throat as he choked in dismay. That wasn’t what he had meant to do…

_ Oh gods! Oh gods! Techno!  _ Phil dropped the crossbow and staggered against the balcony railing. 

He couldn’t see what had happened, the smoke had obscured his vision of the cage. But he had heard the sickening crack of bone shattering and the snapping of wood, even from where he stood. 

He had meant to give him a clean death. A quick one. 

Not like this! 

Not like this!

Anything but this! 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as the smoke cleared from the town square. 

Punz lay bleeding, unmoving. Fundy was bent double, clutching at a wound in his gut. Tubbo was on his knees, sword beside him on the ground, his hand pressed firmly over a gash in his head. 

Phil’s eyes slowly followed Quackity as the dark haired boy limped towards the stage, finally forcing himself to look at the cage. 

He whimpered. 

Techno had fallen on his side within the cage, the anvil stuck up halfway through the floorboards beside his face. The left side of his face and shoulder was covered in a dark purple welt and splotches of blood that had begun to leak through the broken skin of the impact wound. His long, pink hair was steadily turning a dark red near his scalp. 

His eyes were closed.

He wasn’t moving. 

Phil couldn’t breath as he saw Quackity unlock the cage, enter, and kneel beside...the body… 

_ No! Gods please no! _

For a split second, it looked as though the young man was about to cry himself, from release or regret, Phil couldn’t tell. 

Techno’s ear twitched. 

Phil blinked. That couldn’t-

He heard a startled yelp from Quackity. 

Techno’s legs swung upwards, locking around the boy’s neck, before slamming his head hard against the bars of the cage. In that same movement, Phil watched in disbelief as his son bit the keys loose from Quackity’s belt and flipped himself upright, bolting out of the cage before slamming the door shut on the still stunned Quackity’s face. He kicked the latch down, where it locked automatically, before spitting out the keys and leaping off of the stage with a whoop. 

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or bawl as he heard the familiar war cry echoing across the crater. 

“TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!!!! DEATH!!!!! DEATH!!!!!! GIVE THEM DEATH!!!!!” 


	9. “The mask was a thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-conciousness.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Dream's game now? Does anyone know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: panic attack, auditory hallucinations, physical trauma, graphic depictions of wounds, patterned recitation and mindfulness used by character to calm down.

_ Find Carl… _

_ Get to Carl… _

_ Run… _

_ Run… _

_ Chest hurts… _

_ Run… _

_ Find Carl… _

_ Horse… _

_ DEATH!!!! _

_ BLOOD!!!! _

_ BLOOD!!!! _

_ Turn left… _

_ BLOOD!!!! _

Techno spun on his heel, following the direction the voices had given. He couldn’t see out of his left eye, whether that was from the blood soaking into it or some other reason, he wasn’t sure. His head pounded with a vicious relentlessness. His neck and shoulder, where the anvil had smashed into him, throbbed in time with his heartbeat. The abrasions and split skin began to sting the longer they were exposed to air. He tried to ignore the clicking sound coming from his shoulder and collar bone, he knew it was dislocated, broken even. Possibly shattered. 

He knew instinctively he would never be able to to wield a bow again, not with the damage done to his shoulder like that. 

It could be worse. 

He could be dead. 

Techno grinned as he felt the now broken pendant against his chest. A ‘totem of undying’, the villagers near his base had said. Enchanted with an ancient magic that could keep the most fatal of wounds from claiming one’s life. But only once. 

_ If only it healed as well… _

He wasn’t one to complain, he was still alive after all, he still had a chance. 

Techno felt his breath suddenly hitch as a hand shot out from nowhere, clapping over his mouth and dragging him into an alleyway. 

He struggled as the voices began to scream in excitement, in rage, in terror, in pain, in rage again, as he was dragged further into the darkness of the alley. Only to have another arm wrap around his waist, pinning him against his captor, as he heard their voice shush him. 

He froze, relaxing somewhat as he began to understand their intentions. The hands left his mouth and waist and turned to his wrists, beginning to work on undoing his bindings. 

Techno was confused. He knew Punz had tried to help him, at least, that was what he assumed from the ambush. But he had seen the boy incapacitated on the ground when he was running off. Who was his rescuer then? 

“Ranboo?” he asked quietly. Had the boy followed him here? Had he been planning this all along? 

“SHH!” was the only response he got. 

_ Not Ranboo. _ That wasn’t his voice. Hell, Ranboo was far taller than whoever this was. 

_ Not the boy… _

_ MISTAKE… _

_ Piebald boy… _

_ STUPID TECHNO… _

_ Son… _

_ NOT A FATHER… _

_ HORRIBLE MAN… _

_ NEVER THERE… _

_ Never there… _

_ BLOOD… _

_ Chest hurts… _

_ BLOOD… _

_ Everything hurts… _

Techno bit back a cry of pain as his arms were finally freed of their bonds, sending a stabbing sensation through his injured shoulder as they fell to his sides limply. His knees buckled as he began to collapse from the new pain spreading from his shoulders, his back, his chest, his head. He felt the same hands as before catch him, carefully looping his least injured arm across their shoulders for support. 

He saw a familiar flash of white from the face of his rescuer as they led him further into the alley, a ceramic mask. Like the face of an unpainted porcelain doll.

The voices began to scream in recognition. 

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ DRINK HIS BLOOD! _

_ SPILL HIS BLOOD! _

_ DEATH! _

_ DEATH! _

_ DEATH! _

“Dream?!” he hissed. 

Dream gave no response. 

Techno clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the pain. Against the voices. The voices, the pain, the voices, the pain, the voices were so loud, so very very loud. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. 

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ DEATH! _

He forced himself to inhale, slowly, as they continued to walk. Then exhale. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Breath in. 

Breath out. 

It hurt. 

_ KILL! _

_ KILL! _

_ DEATH! _

Gods it hurt so much!

He kept doing it, breathing in and out, slowly, calming his heartbeat within his chest. 

_ DEATH! _

He focused on his heart, the beating beginning to slow as he relaxed. 

He focused on the texture of his tunic, where it wasn’t torn or sticking with blood. 

The slight creases of his trousers behind his knee. The cold metal of the broken totem around his neck. The silken feather touch of his hair against his arms. The pattern of Dream’s walk. The soft clinking of the tomahawk against the harness on Dream’s back. The slight jingle of the buckles on Dream’s boots. 

_ Dream… _

_ Hurt… _

_ Chest hurts… _

_ Hurts… _

The voices calmed as Techno grounded himself the way Philza had taught him, slowly beginning to mumble a series of words. 

“Dream has a tomahawk. I had a sword. I named my horse Carl. I hate being bored.” 

He rhymed. 

It was a stupid rhyme. But he wasn’t looking for any decent poetry, just a pattern of familiar phrases to sooth the voices. 

He was still in pain, he was still scared, the voices were still there. But they were HIS voices. They weren’t angry. They weren’t scared. They didn’t want blood. 

They began to rhyme in unison with him. 

_ Dream… _

_ Tomahawk… _

_ Carl… _

_ Sword… _

_ Bored... _

They stated his observations and concerns and mimicked what they heard, and that was all. They couldn’t tell him what to do. 

He was himself. They were just another piece of him. 

_ Ssh… _

_ Dream… _

_ Ssh… _

_ Dream says ssh… _

_ Ssh… _

The voices were finally calm.

Techno opened his eyes. His left eye still wasn’t working. He could manage that, he told himself. He gingerly glanced around, careful not to strain his shoulder and neck, as he took in his surroundings. 

Dream was guiding him through a tunnel now, lit by lanterns burning low across the ceiling. The faint smell of water and decay drifted up from the dark, deep into the tunnel ahead. They must be in one of the newer drainage systems, or was it older? He couldn’t tell. In any case, the tunnels didn’t seem to have any of the recent damage of the explosives that felled the old L’Manburg. 

Another scent caught his attention. 

_ Horse… _

_ Clip clop… _

_ Horse shit… _

_ Carl… _

Techno felt a smile play weakly across his face as they rounded a corner, and were met by the familiar  _ fffwwwuuuh _ of Carl’s greeting huff. 

Dream gently leaned Techno against the great charger, already tacked up and with a full saddlebag in place. 

“Hey old man.” Techno buried his face in Carl’s fluffy mane. God’s he’d never been so happy to see a horse before! 

“Sorry I took so long.” he mumbled, weakly running a numb hand across the charger’s massive neck. “Did that stupid boy give you any trouble?” 

He felt Carl’s muzzle nudge his ear. 

If the tunnel had been tall enough, and if he wasn’t in so much pain, he would’ve flung himself onto his old friend’s back and given him the biggest, dumbest hug. As it was, he could only manage to continue his awkward, numb, patting of the horse’s neck. Carl seemed to understand though. 

He nearly jumped as a short cough snapped his attention back to Dream. The masked man had undone his own leather breastplate, holding it out for him to take along with a small, one handed pickaxe. 

Techno narrowed his eyes, flattening his ears cautiously. Dream may have allied with him in previous battles, but he had also clearly stated he was never on his side. Their goals had merely aligned for a time. That was all. 

_ What’s he playing at this time? _

“Why?” Techno asked. “What’s your goal in this?” 

The masked man shrugged. 

Because of course  _ he _ would. 

Techno sighed, finally taking the breastplate and pickaxe, one at a time, seeing as his left arm was practically useless. And stashed them onto Carl’s back before turning back to Dream. 

But, as he suspected, no sooner had he turned around, the ranger had disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel. 

_ Typical… _

_ Typical Ranger… _

_ Green boy… _

_ Green boy… _

It was then that he heard the faint sound of limping footsteps making their way down the tunnels. His blood froze. 

_ Stupid boy… _

_ Quackity is following… _

_ Stupid boy… _

Techno gripped the handle of the pickaxe as tight as he could manage. His thumb barely had any feeling left in it, the nerves wrecked by the cuts in his wrist from the bindings. There was no sensation left in his fingers. 

He grit his teeth. 

This was going to hurt. 


	10. “Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!"  ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is ouch as Techno and Quackity finally face off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: impalement, sword fighting
> 
> While the dialogue is kept somewhat similar to the actual stream, I've chopped it up and replaced it here and there to make more sense within the scene I've written.

Techno had barely managed to cinch the breastplate into place on time. Gods it hurt! The buckles across his wounded shoulder seemed to dig into the bone with every breath. At least, he thought, the pressure would be able to hold the broken bones in place for awhile. He’d cinched the leather armour tighter than normal around his chest, in an attempt to stifle the bleeding from the gash. 

It really wasn’t that great of an idea, but he didn’t have time to tend his wounds just yet, and it was better than no armour at all. Quackity wasn’t too far off, he could hear. 

If only he had some more time. 

_ No time… _

_ No time… _

_ Chest hurts… _

_ Hurts… _

_ Fight the boy… _

_ Stab him… _

_ Hurt him… _

_ Make him pay… _

_ Hurt him… _

_ Kill him… _

He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill him. The boy had hurt him, had hurt Phil, had hurt Tubbo in a way. But Quackity had been hurt as well, long before Techno ever knew him. He could sense there was something deeper to the boy’s anger than just wanting vengeance. Something, or someone, had hurt him long ago. And now, he was the mess he was today. 

He gave Carl a quick pat on the nose as he heard Quackity’s footsteps grow nearer, the boy was shouting, slamming his sword loudly against the walls of the tunnel. 

“Don’t go anywhere, ok bud?” Techno whispered to the horse, flinching as each clang of the blade echoing through the tunnel sent one of the voices screaming in time with the sound. 

_ Oh that’s not good… _ He rubbed his good eye, mumbling to himself to calm the voice. 

“Got Carl. Got Carl.” he soothed the screaming voice. 

_ Got Carl… _

_ Escaping now… _

_ Focus… _

_ Clip clop… _

_ Carl…. _

He gripped the pickaxe as best he could, hiding it behind his back, before turning the corner to face his pursuer. 

Quackity looked terrible. Not as terrible as Techno, but still fairly roughed up. 

The boy held his hand against a gash on his side, from when Punz had ambushed him. Blood trickled down his nose and both his eyes were blackened from where he had been slammed into the cage. A bruise had formed around his neck where Techno had locked his legs around him. His walk was staggered with a heavy limp from some unseen wound to his leg. 

Despite his appearance, there was a burning wrath within his dark eyes, as though the dim lantern light of the tunnel had turned to an angry flame within them. 

The voices began to scratch loudly at Techno’s mind at the sight of him. 

“Tech…” Quackity coughed before dropping his voice angrily. “What the fuck is this Techno?” 

The boy took a step forward. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Techno’s voice caught in his throat as he fought to calm the voices. “It’s...agh...it’s not what it looks like.” 

He grinned, he didn’t want to fight. He was hurting, the voices were overwhelming, he was so tired. If he could keep up a facade of confidence, perhaps the boy would back down? 

The loud slamming of Quackity’s blade against the stone wall shot a stabbing pain through his skull. 

“How the fuck?!” the boy snarled. “How the hell did that anvil not kill you?!” 

Techno chuckled weakly. 

“Did you really think, Quackity,” he leaned against the stone wall, letting the pendant around his neck clatter across the leather breastplate. “Did you really think that you could kill me that easily?” 

The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of the broken totem, then narrowed in rage. 

“I thought I told you to drop everything!” he hissed. 

“Oh well,” Techno grinned. “You see there’s this thing called ‘lying’? I’m surprised you didn’t know what that was, considering how long you worked with Schlatt-” 

“How did you-how did you even do that?!” Quackity’s voice was breaking, a mixture of confusion and rage. 

“You think death can stop me, Quackity?” Techno pulled away from the wall, taking a cautious step forward. 

The boy was breaking, he could sense it. 

Perhaps there was a way out of this then, perhaps there was a way to get some reason past that thick skull of his. 

“You know- you know what?” Techno raised his voice slightly. “You know what? I’ve got a lot to say to you.” 

“I was gonna say it at the trial but we got a little bit interrupted, Quackity.” he was surprised the boy continued to just stare at him, quiet for once. 

“You know I tried,” he continued. “I tried convincing you all, that government- that government was not the answer!” 

_ Stupid… _

_ Repetitive… _

_ You repeat too much… _

_ Brick wall brain… _

_ Stupid boy… _

_ You can’t talk… _

“That government was actually the cause of all your problems,” he ignored the voices, ignored the frustration building at his broken speech. “Alright? I tried to- I tried to convince you by fighting alongside you as a brother, and you just cast me aside!” 

“You used me!” he let himself rant. “I tried to use force but you still formed a government, and when I went into hiding, when I retired, when I swore off violence, YOU hunted me down!” 

He bared his tusks. 

“You hurt my friends!” He snarled. “You hurt my father! You hurt Phil!” 

He took a breath, swallowing, slowly exhaling as he steadied himself against the urge to bash the boy’s teeth in.

“I keep telling you- I keep telling you,” he sighed. “I will repay kindness with kindness. I will repay violence towards me and my friends with defence.” 

“You broke your promise, and you hurt my father, and you tried to kill me.” his voice softened. “Why can’t you understand that?” 

“You don’t understand, Techno.” He saw Quackity stiffen. 

“You don’t understand what we’re trying to build here, Techno.” Quackity gripped his sword. 

“Trying to build your own power-” 

“This is not as simple-” Quackity cut him off. 

“This is not, this is not,” the boy stumbled over his words, before finally taking a step forward, steadying his voice. “This is not a simple anarchy thing, Techno. Ok? This is what you don’t understand.” 

“Alright?” he took another step. “Techno, you really think I give a shit about the Withers? No.” 

His voice was growing unnervingly calm. 

“No,” he chuckled. “No you are on the hitlist, Techno.” 

“You’re on the fucking hitlist!” his voice seemed to shake. 

“What hitlist?” Techno twitched an ear. 

_ Hitlist… _

_ Hitlist… _

_ They’re going to kill you… _

_ On the hitlist… _

_ Stab him stab… _

“I’m building a country here.” Quackity’s laugh stopped, his voice dropping back to its eerily calm pitch. “What we, what we have up there is a country, and what we need here, is organisation and power.” 

“And I don’t care how long it fucking takes me,” he raised his sword. “Or what I have to do to get you, Techno.” 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” his smile was gone. 

The lantern light in his eyes, a deep reddish glow, began to envelope him in flame. 

“I’m going to kill you, Technoblade.” the flames warped his voice. 

_ Too late… _

_ Too late.. _

_ Not convinced… _

_ He burns with wrath… _

_ No mercy… _

_ Kill him… _

There was no reasoning with him anymore, Techno realised. They were well past the point of negotiating now. 

Time for his last resort, bluffing. 

“I just have one question, Quackity.” Techno stated. 

“What do you have?” the boy replied. 

“Do you think you’re enough to kill me?” Techno narrowed his eyes. “Even unarmed? With just some leather armour? Wounded? Do you really think you can take me?” 

“Oh I do.” Quackity’s reply was short and blunt. “You know what?” 

The boy grinned. 

“Let’s fucking find out you son of a bitch!” he leapt through the air, sword raised. 

Techno quickly dropped to the side, steeling himself against the pain of moving, as he dodged the attack. Quackity slammed face first into the wall Techno had been leaning on. 

“Oh fuck you!” the boy snarled, rubbing his face as he spun back around. 

_ Get out of here! _

_ Get out of here! _

_ Get out of here! _

“Get out of here!” Techno screamed in unison with the voices, kicking Quackity square in the chest as he lunged for him once more.

The boy was shoved back but immediately swung his sword dangerously close to Techno’s face, slicing a lock of pink hair. 

“Fuck you!” Quackity shrieked, swinging his sword wildly. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” 

Techno dodged once more. And felt a sharp pain in his side, below his breastplate, as the boy’s blade was plunged into his abdomen, knocking him to the ground. His pickaxe skittered out across the ground on impact. 

He fought back the tears of agony as he grabbed the boy’s wrist with his good hand, stabbing his clawed fingertips through the exposed skin, forcing the sword from the boy’s hand before kicking his legs out from under him. 

Quackity screamed, releasing the blade, only to grab it once more with his other hand, peeling it away from the wound on his own side to grip the hilt. He drew the blade back once and stabbed again, breaking through the simple breastplate, impaling Techno to the floor. 

His back arched as the boy twisted the blade within him. 

He shrieked. 

“You have done so much fucking damage to everything we have been building for so fucking long Techno!” Quackity shouted, twisting the blade with each word. 

Techno forced himself to reach for the pickaxe. He could barely see it in the dim lighting of the tunnels, with his one good eye, he could see his fingertips touching the handle. Just barely. 

“And if there’s one fight I’m planning to win,” Quackity leaned close to Techno’s face, close enough he could taste blood falling from the boy’s nose. “It’s this one!” 

“Quackity!” Techno hissed. His vision was filled with white hot pain. His chest heaved in agony.

The boy snarled. “What?! You going to beg for mercy?!”

“No.” Techno gripped the handle, readying himself. 

“I’ve got a pickaxe.” he choked.

“What?” Quackity seemed taken aback. “No you don’t.” 

Techno snapped his eyes open, lunging upwards, screaming. 

“And I’ll put it through your teeth!” 


	11. “Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno doesn't let Quackity die but he does steal a boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic descriptions of a head wound
> 
> Am I being too pretentious with the Lord of the Flies chapter titles? ......maybe....but it fits so well though.

Techno bit down hard onto the handle of the now broken pickaxe as he shoved a wadded up roll of linen into the puncture wound. He’d need to cauterize it, but not now. He didn’t have time now. He just needed to stop the bleeding, and then get the hell out of here. 

He heard a faint moan from where Quackity lay opposite him. 

The boy was still conscious, if only just. 

Techno had made good on his threat, the boy’s mouth hung open, the jaw broken, dripping with blood and shattered teeth. His left eye, just like Techno’s own, was covered in blood from a deep abrasion that tore up from his jaw and into his hairline. Where Techno had hit him. 

He’d stunned him. He didn’t want to kill him. But with a head wound that bad, he couldn’t guarantee he’d live. 

_ Unless… _

_ Kill him… _

_ Unless... _

_ Unless… _

_ No mercy… _

_ Mercy… _

_ Stupid boy… _

_ Mercy… _

_ Child murderer.... _

Techno gasped, dropping the broken pickaxe handle from between his teeth, as he forced himself to finished binding the wound up. He was grateful Dream had bothered to pack some medical supplies. Linens, bandages, a suture kit, a series of potions. 

He picked one of the potions out of the bag and gingerly made his way to the boy, kneeling beside him. 

Quackity moaned. In pain or protest or anger, or all three, Techno couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter now. He uncorked the potion and gently poured its contents into the boy’s mouth. 

The youth didn’t have much of a choice but to swallow the liquid down, with his nose blocked up with blood he wouldn’t be able to breath until the fluid was gone. He choked a bit, gagging on the mixture of blood and spit and bitter potion. And then his good eye rolled back in his head as he finally fell unconscious. The only indication he still lived was the slight, wheezing whine from his throat as he breathed. 

He’d live now. 

The potion would make sure of that, Techno told himself. 

“There, kid.” He stood, leaving the remainder of his potion by the boy’s side. 

“You took my eye, I took yours.” He turned back towards Carl. “We’re even.”

_ I spared your life, you better spare Phil’s. _

Techno took hold of Carl’s reins and proceeded to make his way down the tunnels. He didn’t look back. 

It took less time than he thought to make it out of the tunnels. His memory of the Old L’Manburg layout had proven useful, as he made his way through the winding tunnel system that had once served as the old city’s sewers. Once he had found the main drainage for the castle, the rest of the way was easy. Using the drains as his bearings, he made his way to where Tommy’s old house would be. 

_ Tommy’s been exiled, and the house is far enough away from any important locations. _ He reasoned.  _ In theory, no one should be guarding it. _

His theory proved correct. The house was indeed empty, he noticed, once he had found his way into the cellar. It had taken a bit of work to get Carl to fit through the cellar doors, but they had been just large enough it seemed, and soon enough both he and the massive charger were out of the house. 

Then outside in the walkways. 

Then out of the walls. 

Then out of the crater. 

It was a miracle no one had noticed the two, the massive horse and its pink haired, half piglin master, streaked with blood. 

It was a miracle he would take, Techno thought as he finally, gingerly, clambered onto Carl’s back. He gave the horse a little tap with the heels of his boots, the great charger bolted. 

He wasn’t sure how long it took to finally reach the coastline, he had kept falling in and out of consciousness. Occasionally snapping back awake to turn Carl through the woods or past a bridge, to slow down or to speed back up, or to keep an ear out for pursuers. 

He was grateful there were none. 

He was grateful Carl’s gait was as smooth as it was, any other horse and he knew his wounds would be stabbing with pain at each hoofbeat. 

_ I’m going to give you so many sugar cubes when we get home. _ He promised, patting the horse’s neck. 

It was still dark by the time he had reached the coast. Dark, and raining. 

Techno gingerly pulled the cloak he had found in the saddle packs around his shoulders, drawing the hood up over his head as he scanned the beach. It didn’t take long to find the now abandoned karvi he had been brought here in that very morning. Or was it yesterday morning? He couldn’t tell anymore. 

He dismounted, guiding Carl onto the boat. The tide was coming in, he knew, and would be washing the longship out to sea without any effort on his part. 

Just his luck, he smiled. 

He’d still have put the sails in place and ensure the anchor line was cut, he wasn’t about to waste any time trying to dig it out of the sand. It would hurt, but what didn’t hurt at this point? 

He placed the handle of the broken pickaxe back into mouth and bit down hard against the pain, forcing himself to draw the sails up, before slicing through the anchor line. 

Finally, he spat out the handle, slumping against the mast of the longship as he felt the combination of tide and wind carry it out to sea. He couldn’t rest for long, he told himself, he had to make sure he was on course. 

Gingerly, he dragged himself back to his feet, every movement sent him shaking with pain. He felt a small whimper slip from his mouth as he limped to the stern, grabbing hold of the rudder bar he steadied himself before turning it. The boat, with the wind finally catching its sail, rocked towards where he had directed it. Westward, towards home. 

_ Home… _

_ Home base… _

_ Home is nice… _

Carl snorted at the movement beneath his hooves as Techno tied the rudder into place before finally, finally, allowing himself to rest. 


	12. “The thing is - fear can't hurt you any more than a dream.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The human GPS doesn't need a map. He does need a hospital though but he'll just have to stick it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic descriptions of wound cauterising and suturing
> 
> In the home stretch now boys! One more chapter to go!

The night dragged on horrendously slow. Techno couldn’t sleep. He dozed off one or two times but true sleep, one where the voices were silent and the pain had ceased, was unattainable. Instead, he resorted to lighting the small lantern he had found in the saddle pack, hoping to create some form of warmth as he inspected what else he’d been given. 

After ensuring Carl was comfortable with a blanket and not soaking from the rain, he settled down beside the rudder and began sorting through the supplies in the lantern light.

A knife, a canteen of water, some oil for the lantern, some healing potions, a blanket…

He chuckled. 

A map. 

Techno had never understood maps. There were too many lines, too many squiggles, too many things that didn’t mean anything to him. Roads were constantly changing, rivers moved, cities became abandoned. Right and left had no meaning if one had no perspective of where they were supposed to be oriented to. 

The stars however, the stars stayed the same. The sun always rose in the east. The moss always grew on the north side of the trees. Patterns within nature were far more easy to understand than the subjective scrawlings of an opinionated hand. 

_ Map… _

_ Map… _

_ Stupid map… _

_ Map… _

_ Fold the map… _

_ Burn it… _

_ Fold the map… _

_ Fly… _

With some effort, Techno took the map in his good hand and carefully folded it into a vaguely triangular shape, before tossing it upwards. It caught a small gust of wind and spiraled lazily towards the bow of the boat, before it finally fell. The rain soaked through it. 

_ Stupid Dream… _

_ Gave a map… _

_ Useless… _

_ Useless paper… _

_ Map… _

_ Burn the ship… _

_ Map....  _

_ Don’t burn things… _

_ Burn… _

_ Hurt…. _

_ Burn the hurt… _

Right. Techno sighed, coughing slightly as the breath knocked loose more frothy blood within his lungs. 

He needed to cauterise the wounds now. 

He placed the blade into the flame of the lantern before tearing the blanket into strips. Then slowly, achingly, he peeled the blood soaked remains of his breastplate and tunic from his chest, unwinding the bandages from around his abdomen. 

He inspected his wounds. 

The bleeding had slowed, but without the pressure of the breastplate and wads of linen under the bandages, they began to seep with blood once more. He’d have to work quickly. 

He shoved the pickaxe handle back between his teeth as he grabbed the knife from the flame, its blade white hot by now, and bit down. 

His scream was muffled between his teeth as he pressed the flat of the blade over the stab wound in his side. His mind went blank. His hands worked numbly to place the blade back into the fire, then onto the exit wound on his mid back where the sword had pierced through. Finally onto the entry wound in the centre of his chest. 

He barely remembered even cauterizing them, only that he had. He had no memory of resetting his shoulder.

When he finally came to, he noticed his hands were shakily stitching the gash in his upper chest. 

He sighed in relief, coughing weakly again, pink froth dripped from the corners of his mouth. 

At least that was over. 

From the remainder of the night and into the afternoon of the next day, Techno sat by the rudder bar, huddling under the cloak, reciting small patterns of words to himself and sipping slowly on the healing potions. Occasionally massaging his hands and fingers in the hopes that feeling would return to them. 

It did, for a few. His thumbs would be alright, and his left and right pointer and middles. His rings and pinkies would never feel more than a slight tingling again. 

By the time dawn of his second day at sea had arrived, he was struggling to maintain consciousness. He gave a silent thanks to whatever luck had watched over him, however, as he noticed the not too distant shoreline of his icy home on the horizon. 

He was free again. 

It was snowing.


	13. “They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.” ― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno gets some much needed tlc for himself. And an unexpected guest crawls out of his floorboards like the racoon boy that he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic description of a blinded eye and impact wound, a knife is held to a child's throat but nothing happens 
> 
> I did it! I did my first ever fanfic! I had so much fun writing this, though my favourite bit was this last chapter. I adore writing "wind downs" and calming scenes (shocking, I know) especially when it come to self care. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading!

If it weren’t for his pre-established routine of setting his horse up for the night before seeing to himself, Techno would have collapsed the second he arrived at his base. Instead, he set about removing Carl’s tack, ensuring the horse had been treated to some extra hay and sugar cubes before finally entering his home. 

Gods he had missed it! 

With the last of his strength, he staggered upstairs, not even bothering to remove the bloodied rags across his wounds, before collapsing in a heap on his bed. 

Sleep took him with a vengeance. 

The faint, pink light of the sun woke him at dawn the next day. He didn’t want to wake up. He knew he had to however. His lungs were beginning to burn with infection and his wounds still needed to be cleaned. Hell,  _ he _ needed to be cleaned. 

And he couldn’t just leave Carl to himself. 

He dragged himself shakily from his bed-

_ Dammit… _

_ Blood on the sheets… _

_ Blood… _

_ Clean the sheets too… _

_ Should have cleaned up first… _

_ Stupid… _

_ Stupid… _

He’d take care of that later. 

After ensuring a fire had been lit in the hearth and Carl had been fed, and given even more sugar cubes, much to the horse’s delight, Techno made his way to the washroom with a clean set of clothes. He paused at the mirror as he entered, grimacing at the sight of himself. 

From the left side of his face and spreading down his shoulder and chest, a large, purple and black welt had formed. Broken up by a series of bloodied abrasions, one of which crossed his left eye, the coagulated blood gluing the lids shut. 

_ Another scar… _

_ Add to the collection… _

_ Fucking freak… _

_ Ouch… _

_ Cool scar… _

_ Blind… _

_ Might be blind… _

He gingerly pulled the lids apart. To his dismay, the eye was no longer its normal hue. Instead, it was a milky white. 

He flicked his hand in front of it. 

Nothing. 

He closed his good eye, repeating the motion. 

Again, nothing.

Blind. 

_ Dammit… _

_ Blind… _

_ More problems… _

_ Problem… _

_ You’re a problem… _

_ Can’t see… _

_ Failure… _

“I still have one left.” he told himself, opening his eye again. “I still have one left.” 

While the discovery of his blind eye had left him momentarily nauseous with panic, he had to admit, he felt heaps better after he had settled himself into the tub. 

The potions had been doing their job, he noticed, slowly stitching his bones and muscles back into place, they weren’t an instant cure but if he was consistent in taking them they would certainly help the process go by much faster. 

He’d made sure the wounds had been thoroughly cleaned, taking extra care to be gentle around his scalp and eye where the anvil had struck him, before he began washing the blood from his hair. He sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his damp hair, picking the scabbed blood out from the pink locks as he soaked up the warm water from the tub. 

He’d been cold for so long. Cold, hurt, exhausted. 

It was nice having a warm place to call home. 

He’d never settled in any one place for too long, opting to follow in Philza’s footsteps, drifting from one place to the next, avoiding the scattered cities and towns. It wasn’t that he hated people, far from it, he loved his family. He just didn’t like the crowding. The noise, the touches, the way no one seemed to reason, the way no one bothered to think things through, the way too many people in power would create restraints. On their people, on their laws, on their lands, on him. 

He never understood why people continuously followed those who created those restraints. Not rules, rules were necessary to keep order. But restraints, restrictions on some people just because someone didn’t like them, restrictions on where one could be, how one could think, how one was supposed to appear to others. 

He never liked that. 

Too many places in this world were full of restrictions, and so he never bothered to stay in them for long. The second he felt the rope tightening around him, he’d leave. Sure he’d tried to help others, show them the problems the restraints created. It never worked out in the end, no one could seem to separate restrictions from rules in their minds. 

L’Manburg was one of them. 

He was glad he was no longer there. 

_ Good things never happen to heroes… _

_ Not a hero… _

_ Not a father… _

_ Coward… _

_ They betrayed you… _

_ Not a hero… _

_ Hero…. _

Techno rinsed his hair out in the water before leaving the tub, careful to not jog his wounds as he dried off and redressed them, before slipping into his clothes. Gods he’d missed clean clothes. 

Once his hair had fully dried, he placed a kettle on the stove for some tea before heading out to check up on the bee hives. The chill air of the biome was less of its usual biting cold and more a pleasant crispness, he noted. Or, maybe he’d just missed it. 

To his relief, the hives were in decent shape. Their honey supplies were adequate for the winter and there were hardly any dead bees on the entrance of the boxes. The hives themselves seemed to radiate a soft warmth. That was always a good sign. 

Techno smiled as he returned to his house, taking the kettle off the stove as he poured himself some tea, lacing it with some older honey preserves and a splash of healing potion for his lung infection, before settling into a chair by the hearth. While he wanted to continue checking up on the remainder of his stores, he’d have to rest first. His wounds were still sore and he was tiring quickly. Besides, the important tasks had been taken care of already. 

He leaned back against the chair, pulling his hair to the front as he absentmindedly began to braid the soft locks. It wasn’t as easy as he’d remembered, with his damaged hands numbly misjudging where they were. But he managed. 

Phil had always been much better at it anyhow. 

_ Dadza… _

_ Dadza… _

_ They hurt Phil… _

_ Phil could braid… _

_ Miss Phil… _

_ Phil… _

He did miss Phil. He would be lying if he told himself he wasn’t worried for him. Or Tommy. Or Tubbo. Or even Wilbur, despite him now being, well, a ghost. 

While he had never gotten on well with being around people, he had never hated them. He never hated being with his family. Sure, he thrived when he was alone, when he didn’t have to deal with the voices  _ and _ the constant attention of his family. But they understood that. They knew he preferred his space. And he knew that he could always come back to them when he did need them. When he did need Phil’s gentle heartbeat or Wilbur’s songs to sooth the voices, or Tommy and Tubbo’s ridiculous antics to distract him. He had always been able to go to them when he needed them. 

He couldn’t now. 

He wasn’t just alone anymore, he was isolated. 

_ You caused this… _

_ You betrayed them… _

_ They betrayed you… _

_ Child killer… _

_ Murderer… _

_ Traitors… _

_ Abandoned again… _

_ Abandoned… _

While he thrived on being alone, he hated being lonely. 

He was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a faint creak behind him. Immediately on guard, he quietly turned, standing up from the chair as he drew a short knife from his belt. The cellar door was opening, just a crack, little by little. 

He crept towards it, careful to not let his boots step on any of the squeakier floorboards, until he had crouched behind the cellar door, waiting. 

The second he saw a tawny fluff of blonde hair poke out above the door, he reacted. He shot his hand down, grabbing the intruder by the neck before flinging them out of the cellar and onto their back. He dropped his knee to their chest and placed the knife to their throat and- 

Tommy’s wide blue eyes stared up at him in a mixture of shock and terror. 

For a long moment, both were silent. 

“Heh?!” Techno raised an eyebrow, his ears twitching in confusion. 

This...this wasn’t really Tommy, was it? 

“Uh.....how do?” the boy before him finally said, waving a hand with a wary grin. 

This had to be his mind playing tricks on him. This was no more real than when Quackity had caught fire in the tunnels. 

Tommy, or, whatever seemed to look like Tommy, frowned. Clearly growing frustrated.

“Well? Take a picture then!” the boy spat, trying to wriggle out of Techno’s grasp. “It’ll last longer! Then you can look at my scared shitless face whenever you want!” 

Techno didn’t move, his hands locking the boy in place. How did this...person...get in here? Why was he behaving so familiarly? 

Maybe he really was Tommy?

“Ay!” the boy continued to squirm before shouting a slew of insults. “You look ugly! You look like shit! Shit head!” 

_ Tommy! _

_ It’s Tommy! _

_ Stupid baby! _

_ Kick the baby! _

_ Tommy! _

_ Hugs! _

_ No hugs! _

_ Kick the baby! _

“What are you doing in my house, Tommy?” Techno asked flatly, still unsure if he was seeing his little brother before him or not. After the events of the past week, he wasn't about to take any chances.

The boy stopped squirming. 

“Well 'hi' to you too, I guess,” he huffed. “How are you?” 

“What are you doing in my house, Tommy?” Techno asked again, pressing the knife against the boy's throat. If this was an imposter, or just the voices being cruel again, it was a very convincing replica. 

The boy frowned. 

“Oh really now? I ask 'how are you?' and you try to stab me?!” he asked again, insistently, his voice dropping in irritation. "Some brother you are."

“What are you doing in my house, Tommy?!” Techno demanded, raising his voice. “What are you doing in my house?! TOMMY?!” 

“Oh you are a bitch!!!!” the boy snarled. “You never change do you?! You always going to greet me like this?! You bastard! Bitch boy! Pig boy! Bitch! Fuck you! Just let me up already!”

Yup, that was Tommy. 

There was no doubt about it now. 

He didn’t even question how he had gotten here, or why he was in his cellar, that didn’t matter now. The only thing that did, was that he was alive. And he was here.

Techno dropped the knife and gave his brother a series of annoyed slaps as the boy yelped, squirming out of his reach. 

“Get out of my house Tommy!” Techno grinned. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” Tommy slapped him back. "What the fuck man?!"

Techno grabbed his little brother’s arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. Much to the blonde’s chagrin as he continued to squirm. 

“Stop moving or I’ll kill you.” Techno mocked, still refusing to let go of Tommy. He felt tears about to burst from behind his eyes. 

“Psh!” Tommy scoffed. “You can’t kill me.” 

“No, I really think I can.” Techno squeezed his arms tighter around the boy, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and chest as he did. 

Tommy yelped, twisting himself this way and that before finally giving up, returning the hug with an awkward pat on Techno’s back. 

_ Stupid child… _

_ Missed the child… _

_ Protect the child… _

_ Protect Tommy… _

_ We love Tommy… _

_ We love you Tommy… _

_ Baby brother… _

_ Kick the baby… _

Techno felt as though he was going to bawl, he had Tommy now. He really, truly, had Tommy. He wasn’t lonely now. 

_ Give him tea… _

_ Tea… _

_ Kick the baby… _

_ Tea for Tommy… _

“You want tea?” he asked. 

“How is that a fucking question?” Tommy snapped. “Yes I want some fucking tea!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fan fic of any sort. I want to clarify that this is purely about the character(s) that the Dream SMP cast play as and NOT the people themselves. Here's a few notes in case you have questions:
> 
> .Why are some of the game mechanics not mentioned?- I liked the idea of retelling the events as if it were in a pseudo fantasy setting that's heavily inspired by the game, rather than the game itself. This is why the totem of undying is already on Techno, why Phil was astral projecting instead of disguised as a creeper, and why everyone starts off on a single boat instead of multiple. And also why death is implied to be incredibly terrifying. For this retelling I didn't think the idea of multiple lives would work in context, so perma-death is a thing that everyone is avoiding. Let's just say that people are far more resilient in this world and potions are really REALLY useful.
> 
> .Are Techno, Tubbo, Fundy, Phil, and Ranboo hybrids?- Yes. I imagined them as being humanoid hybrids. 
> 
> .What's a Karvi?- A karvi is a small, viking longship. It made things easier to write about having everyone in one boat instead of multiple. 
> 
> .What's a charger?- A charger is a type of horse that's typically ridden by knights, they are very big and built for all purpose riding but mainly to "charge" into enemy lines and run them over. I liked the idea of Carl being a charger. 
> 
> .Why is the breastplate that Dream gives to Techno leather and not iron like in the stream?- mainly cause the idea of using a fitted metal breastplate to stop bleeding can, in theory work, but it makes for a useless breastplate. Has to do with the physics of dispersing a blow from an impact around the chest. So then what us is leather? Leather is good for protecting against slashing damage, metal for impact damage. With how I had written the scene, leather made more sense than iron. Also I imagined Dream as more of a lightweight ranger type who wouldn't wear metal. So, that I guess? 
> 
> .If this is a fantasy retelling, why is Uber mentioned?- I....uh....honestly the joke on the stream was funny and I just wanted it to be in there somehow. Maybe Uber is just a universal concept? 
> 
> .Why is Quackity using a sword and not an axe like in the stream?- .....I forgot what weapon he had. 
> 
> .Why is Ranboo possibly a certain someone's long lost child?- It actually started off as a joke between my sibling and I and now we're just kinda accepting it as a headcanon now. 
> 
> .If Techno keeps referring to his captors as "children, how old is he supposed to be?- I don't know, I didn't quite think that through. It's symbolic ok? 
> 
> CW: it is heavily implied within this work that Techno has some form of hallucinatory psychosis and Tubbo has PTSD from being shot with a firework. There are graphic descriptions of injury, kidnapping, and hostage situations, up until the very last chapter. 
> 
> Extra:  
> Tubbo, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are all adopted siblings. I subscribe to the idea that Tubbo has horns and Techno looks like a human but with pointy ears and tusks, but you're free to imagine them however you like. It should be obvious but DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DO ANY OF THE MEDICAL PROCEDURES DESCRIBED IN THIS WORK. 
> 
> I've never written a fanwork before, if the creators of these characters want this taken down or say they are uncomfortable with this then I will take it down.  
> I hope to be able to write more stuff like this, it was actually really fun and I would love to continue doing retellings of the DreamSMP storylines within this context.


End file.
